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<title>shutter by lochTenderness (theseourbodies)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26539717">shutter</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/theseourbodies/pseuds/lochTenderness'>lochTenderness (theseourbodies)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>pony [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Bodysuit, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Photo Shoots, Photographs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:48:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,052</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26539717</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/theseourbodies/pseuds/lochTenderness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Some people solved puzzles; some people did crafts. Akaashi Keiji, 23, had made a genuine hobby of watching his beautiful, athletic, beloved roommate-turned-doting-boyfriend grind on a pole for educational purposes. To each their own. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Akaashi sets and then thoroughly breaks some ground rules when he volunteers to take promotional photos for Bokuto's classes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>pony [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957846</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bokuto Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>shutter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>wow this is spicy!! </p><p>written for Bokuto Week 2020 Day 5: <strong>BokuAka</strong>/Tattoo/<strong>Model/Photoshoot!AU</strong></p><p>cursory review only because im tired as hell</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Akaashi had attempted exactly one of Bokuto's classes, the very first one he offered as soon as he secured a time slot in a local studio. The class is magnificent (Bokuto is magnificent,) but Akaashi is a resounding failure-- Akaashi, always flexible, found that the muscles he hadn't thought to test since undergrad utterly failed him no matter how well he could follow Bokuto's. His cursed hands, always intolerably sweaty even without added exertion, squeak hideously every time he slips down the pole, no matter his vice grip. The humiliation of the failure had then been thoroughly overshadowed by the miserable look on Bokuto's ridiculously nice face after the class was over. Akaashi had bowed out with fifteen minutes left in the class as gracefully as he could; he had fruitlessly hoped that Bokuto would be too excited to notice.    </p><p>Akaashi had been less than eager to repeat the class experience or the three hours of talking Bokuto out of an adrenaline-fueled crash into a deep slump afterwards. Luckily for both of them, Bokuto liked an audience and Akaashi was something of a Bokuto enthusiast, so Akaashi made time every Thursday and Tuesday to settle into a corner of Bokuto's studio space to watch and film teasers for Bokuto's meticulously curated twitter account. The compromise suited them very, very well. </p><p>Some people solved puzzles; some people did crafts. Akaashi Keiji, 23, had made a genuine hobby of watching his beautiful, athletic, beloved roommate-turned-doting-boyfriend grind on a pole for educational purposes. To each their own.  </p><p>--- </p><p>The twitter account is Kenma's hobby, and in the way of hobbies it consumes roughly ninety-nine percent of Kenma's already sparce free time. Akaashi would genuinely not be surprised if Kenma had attempted to claim the account on his taxes as a dependent. Akaashi would be even less surprised if the attempt had been successful.  </p><p>Normally, Akaashi is quite pleased that their ruthless friend handles Bokuto's online presence. It minimizes negative feedback or comments and increases Bokuto's visibility to people who are not drunk men and women trying to shove yen notes down Bokuto's shorts at his day job. However, normally, Akaashi doesn't have Bokuto, bent at the waist in front of him, grinning back at Akaashi through his spread legs. Normally, Akaashi knows better to listen to Kenma's schemes for improving Bokuto's online presence, but normally Kenma is too lazy to do what he had done this time: that is, sic Bokuto and his infuriatingly persuasive eyes on Akaashi without remorse.  </p><p>Akaashi takes a deep, soothing breath, and calmly reminds Bokuto: "Bokuto-san, please use your working face."  </p><p>"Right, sorry Agashi! I just can't believe you agreed to do this with me!"  </p><p>'With me' sounds remarkably dirty in the context of what they're actually doing, which is taking softcore shots of Bokuto using Akaashi's camera and passion for photography. 'With me' makes it sound as if Akaashi is <em> participating </em>, which Akaashi had declared before they even started that he would not be doing. Definitely not. </p><p>"Please just focus above the camera, Bokuto-san," Akaashi tells him, focusing fiercely down at his viewfinder. It's a necessary precaution-- on the screen, Akaashi watches Bokuto lift smoothly from his deep bend and grin over his shoulder at Akaashi instead of from between his thighs. Akaashi's finger spasms and he catches the shot before Bokuto can open his mouth on a cheeky:  </p><p>"'Kay, Akaashi!"</p><p>They proceed. Because these shots are to promote Bokuto's classes, and not his stage identity, Ace, Kenma had suggested Bokuto wear his usual teaching clothes, which Bokuto had innocently, gleefully agreed to without a second's hesitation. Akaashi, who also spent ninety-nine percent of <em> his </em> sparce free time on his own hobby of Bokuto-watching, had also agreed at the time that that was a good idea. He was immune to Bokuto's usual getup for the studio-- while he enjoyed the small swell of skin where the top of Bokuto's kneepads near the middle of his thighs and the teasing flash of Bokuto's chest through the wide-cut out where sleeves had once existed, these things were common things for Akaashi to see. Despite his misgivings, he had thought he would be able to handle this ridiculous assignment with ease.  </p><p>Akaashi had learned many things in his graduate program, but he had especially learned to overestimate his own abilities. It had led to few blowouts during his academic career, but in his personal life it had wreaked a gentle havoc not unlike the usually cheerful chaos that Bokuto himself left in his wake. Akaashi had managed to forget, <em> again </em>  that seduction was half of what  Bokuto  did for forty-plus hours of his work week. When  Bokuto  had strode out into their living room in nothing but a mock-neck singlet and a smile,  Akaashi  had realized that he very much could  <em> not </em> handle this unless he set some stern ground rules.  </p><p>("What. What is." </p><p>"Huh, what was that Akaashi?" </p><p>"I thought-- Kenma said--" </p><p>"Oh yeah, I just bought this a few days ago to teach in. Really helps identify muscle groups that I'm working without me having to hike my shirt up all the time." </p><p>".... Right. Right, you're quite right Bokuto-san, that's. Very...thoughtful of you.") </p><p>Akaashi has never had much of an opinion on body suits, but that is rapidly changing as the photoshoot goes on. His early relief when Bokuto had pulled on his favorite cropped sweatshirt and settled his typical, casual snapback onto his head was both foolish and short-lived. The legs of the suit ended much higher than Bokuto's usual shorts; the absolute territory Akaashi was used to only catching glimpses of was prominently on display. The black fabric of the suit was equally awful; the first few poses showed off every inch of hard-earned muscle. Bokuto goes up on his toes, twisting his torso; Bokuto gleefully kicks his legs up with his chest and hands braced firmly on the floor; Bokuto grins around the hem of his sweatshirt he's clamped in his mouth to keep it out of his face while he hangs, perfectly inverted, by the pole clenched between his legs. Akaashi takes picture after picture, hiding further and further behind the camera because this is for Bokuto's <em> career </em>, and he has to do a good job.  </p><p>"'Ey, 'ey, Agashee!" Bokuto says around the sweatshirt and Akaashi looks up immediately despite his resolve to focus on the camera. Bokuto braces his hands against the ground of their living room and kicks gracefully off the pole. The move takes him almost all the way to where Akaashi's standing. Bokuto rises with a smooth, thoughtless roll. "Hey, Akaashi, can you at least take a few with me? I won't even ask you to get on the pole, and I promise I won't touch you!"  </p><p>Akaashi is... a fool, but at least he is a fool in predictable ways. Instead of staying firm about his ground rules for this session, he opens his stupid mouth and asks instead, "What did you have in mind, Bokuto-san." </p><p>The look on Bokuto's face is, tragically, totally worth Akaashi making a fool of himself yet again.  </p><p>"I don't know, maybe just something for us?"  </p><p>Akaashi blinks, caught off guard. He knows that Bokuto talks about him on his accounts and in his classes. He had half expected pictures of Akaashi to be a second phase of Kenma's plan; just from casually browsing comments he knows Bokuto's followers are always vaguely interested in what Akaashi must look like. He's so startled that he blurts "Just for us, Bokuto-san?" without a second's thought. Akaashi should have gone to a university for <em> clowns </em>; he is such a fool, he would have easily met any pre-requisites. </p><p>"Yeah, for when you're stuck pulling all-nighters or whatever, or when I'm working. I barely have any pictures of us together, Keiji!" </p><p>Akaashi hesitates for a moment, but when he glances back to his camera, he finds that he has already fiddled with the settings; a large, semi-transparent ten overlays Bokuto's hopeful face on the view finder. Resigned, he goes to find his tripod as Bokuto cheers behind him.  </p><p>---  </p><p>It takes Akaashi a week before he gives in to Kenma's pointed comments about the photoshoot and pulls the pictures up on his laptop. The first sixty or so shots are just of Bokuto: Bokuto flexing, Bokuto suspended on the pole, Bokuto grinning at the camera in various and highly flexible poses. Akaashi browses the thumbnails carefully, already picking his favorites. When he reaches the last twenty-four shots he pauses, takes a deep breath, and clicks on the first thumbnail that features his dark head as well as Bokuto's light one.  </p><p>It's predictably awkwardly posed. Ten seconds was not a lot of time to arrange oneself and one's extremely handsy partner into a suitably effortless-looking sprawl. The continuous shot feature on the camera captured their first few seconds of floundering in all its blurry-limbed glory; by the tenth horribly blurred shot, Akaashi has resigned himself to embarrassing failure, but then the next shot completely steals his breath away.  </p><p>It's just the two of them, like Akaashi had expected, but the perfect stillness of the pose after the rush of the first ten shots is...striking. If he concentrates, Akaashi can almost remember this captured moment as it had happened-- Bokuto, casually turning Akaashi around towards the camera on his knees, pushing his warm chest against Akaashi's back and pulling him back into the cradle of Bokuto's pelvis at the same time with a strong hot arm wrapped around Akaashi's waist. Akaashi had looked down at Bokuto's arm and-- </p><p>Akaashi vaguely remembers the click of the shutter, but he mostly remembers Bokuto's voice in his ear- </p><p>He clicks through to the next pictures--  </p><p>"Hey, Akaashi, look at the camera, ok?" </p><p>Akaashi in the picture is caught just as he looks up, mouth unfamiliar and soft, eyes only vaguely focused just above the camera's eye. Bokuto's head rests against that Akaashi's shoulder as he smirks at the camera.  </p><p>Akaashi clicks to the next picture, and--  </p><p>Bokuto had pressed his face to Akaashi's neck and Akaashi remembers the heat, mostly, remembers how Bokuto had been burning up from the light workout and from excitement. The frame of the picture is just wide enough to capture that Akaashi to just below his hips, and it's enough, it's just enough--  </p><p>Next picture, next picture, oh god--  </p><p>Bokuto's bare skin was always a revelation, soft, tight, and perfect even when Akaashi felt too prickly to be touched. He remembers the press of Bokuto's forearm against his suddenly bared stomach, pale against pale because even when he regularly saw the sun Akaashi had always had strict tan line that exactly mapped out a shape of a tee shirt, leaving his belly as pale as Bokuto. If that brush of hot skin was like an electric shock, Bokuto's hand dipping under the waistband of Akaashi's leggings was, it was- </p><p>Akaashi clicks frantically--  </p><p>"Hey, hey, Akaashi, look up for me?" and he had, Akaashi always would, whenever it was Bokuto asking, whenever--  </p><p>That Akaashi in the picture is caught looking up again, obviously panting. He isn't a small man, but Bokuto looks massive behind him, curled over Akaashi , bracketing him in with his shoulders and his thighs on either side of Akaashi as he looks directly into the camera over Akaashi's shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth smiling fiercely.  </p><p>The next shot is blurry, a barely flesh toned shadow obscuring almost the entire frame and Akaashi remembers rocking up, up into Bokuto's hand and back into the curl of Bokuto's body and reaching frantically out for the camera to stop the pictures, because even just for them, these were, these would be--  </p><p>Akaashi, present day Akaashi, closes the slideshow, closes the file, and buries his flaming face in his hands. Once he manages to pull his head up again, he finds himself checking the novelty clock perched on the corner of his desk. Two hours until he can even think to expect Bokuto back from his shift.  </p><p>Akaashi bites his lip and opens the file again. It'll help with the wait, he thinks. Bokuto had said that that's what he wanted these pictures <em>for</em>. Akaashi might as well take some time to thoroughly test that theory before Bokuto, flesh-and-blood Bokuto, finally made it home. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hmu on the tweeter: @theseourbodies</p></blockquote></div></div>
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